Man of Straw
by kakashidiot
Summary: Part I. Kakashi-centric. The Copy Nin's past, present and future? SPOILERS FOR RECENT MANGA CHAPTERS!


_I do not own Naruto. It belongs to Kishimoto. In writing this, I do not gain money - nor is this the original series reproduced - although some quotes come from the Kakashi Gaiden._

_There are spoilers for the Kakashi Gaiden (for those who have not read it) - as well as for the recent manga chapters (200 and beyond, I guess)._

_**THE BOLD AND ITALICS is the poem "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot! A GOOD READ! **  
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Man of Straw**

**[vignettes of a scarecrow]**

**Part I**

_**We are the hollow men**_

Kakashi's smile is deceptive. Like the homely face of a scarecrow. Or the bone-white mask of an ANBU. It is goofy. Relaxing. Assumes familiarity and friendliness. People leave the Jounin wondering about the man, slotting him into the "bat-shit-crazy-but-obviously-handsome-ninja" category.

So even when he fails, he sets his face to resigned repentance. A projected sense of fatherly worry. A blend of "ah well, this kind of thing happens too". And a ready repetoire of failed students at hand to compare against...

[Jiraiya's team comes to mind...]

He can still hear Asuma's lazy voice in his head.

"You're okay with this? With your team falling apart?"

The taller man jerked out a cigarette and lit it with the ease of years.

"Well…" Genma sighed, quirking his senbon up and then down. "It's not like Kakashi-san is the world's greatest sensei either. He should feel relieved. We should all feel relieved."

Kakashi had said nothing.

There was Iruka's quiet voice – condemning with it's sympathy.

"I can't say 'I told you so', Kakashi-sensei," he paused. "But perhaps – I – perhaps it would have been better that –"

_I told you they weren't ready._

Those unspoken words burned in the Copy Nin's mind. Even now, they still smoldered in his stomach. Exhaling harshly, Kakashi lunged yet again, attempting to find that balance if not mentally, than at least physically – to find that equilibrium in the kata.

But he can still hear them... throughout his life, there were always those voices... rustling around him.

_**Our dried voices...**_

_**Are quiet and meaningless **_

_**As wind in dry grass**_

"He's _**that**__ man's son!"_

"_It's the white hair – you can tell – a coward!"_

"_White Fang, huh? Didn't think the idiot would have left something like this behind!"_

"_He's a great man, Kakashi-kun. Grow up to be like him!"_

""I believe that the 'White Fang' is a true hero!... Of course, those in the ninja world who break the rules and regulations are called trash… but…. Those who don't care for their companions are even worse trash. "

"…_the people in this village… what they must've been saying… that you're a great Jounin… that's… how I feel… please accept it………. I'm already…. Going to die….. but… I can become your eye…. And from now on I will see the future…"_

_And what kind of future have you seen, Obito-kun? What hope can there be found here in me – a sensei who couldn't even save his own students – a shinobi who couldn't save his team… again…_

He can hear them, even today - as he walks down the main street of Konoha, under the bright sun. And it is so dark where he is - alone - with those voices of condemnation - those voices of encouragement -

Past and present.

_There's a voice now - familiar -_

High, laughing, joyous -

Stepping aside into an alleyway, he watches her pass. Sakura, running an errand no doubt for Tsunade. Shikamaru, Neji and Shino are with her.

_Perhaps... a mission?_ He wonders but does not attempt to ask.

_She seems so happy there_ - and he wonders once again -

_What could I have done - to keep him there for her? What happened that night - but her eyes had lost that bright glow of hope. She grew up - as all of us have. Learning the reality of determination..._

"Kakashi... I'd like to... study under Tsunade. For a bit..."

_And Naruto._

"I'll grow stronger! And bring that bastard Sasuke back!"

_Both of them... _

_And what can I do, Obito? Stand around feeling sorry for myself... but then... what is this Sharingan - what is the Chidori without that will to protect? It is nothing but... It is..._

_**Paralysed force, gesture without motion;**_

Kakashi woke up with a gasp.

He held up his hands. They were pale in the moonlight, dim, white fingers in his darkened bedroom. Large, capable...

Hands red with blood.

The blood of a young boy. _His name...._ Kakashi tried to remember, tracing back in time... then -

_"Haku... I - I want to see his face... just one last time."_

_Haku. Zabuza._

Two nins who had placed emotion before the mission. Before Obito, he would have thought them weak... and... they were...

Before him, the preacher of teamwork. What was he?

He shut his eyes - and could only see the dead eyes of a youth and sparking electricity. But those eyes - were full of...

_Resignation... determination... love..._

_Just like..._

He steered his thoughts away from it in vain. Already he was back there, running home after a long days work under his new sensei. He burst into the silent mansion - and stopped at the darkness. It was so dark.

Had his father forgotten to turn the lights on as usual? Or... Running into the study, Kakashi froze. It wasn't the blood - but the body that caused him to start screaming in panic.

"FATHER!" And then - standing there - in blood, he knew -

His hands were covered in it, as he rolled his father over.

_So._

_It's my fault..._

_Or..._

"Kakashi! You forgot your -"

Sensei never finished his sentence, his expressive green eyes widening.

"What the hell's going on here? Hatake-sama..."

"Committed suicide," young Kakashi said softly, woodenly.

"Kakashi -"

"It's okay. He couldn't cope - he made a mistake - a very bad decision -"  
"He wasn't at fault!"

"No?" Kakashi snorted. "He broke... rules... didn't think with his head. He was... always soft after Mother died..."

"That's got nothing to do with it!"

Kakashi never answered the future Yondaime.

_**Eyes I dare not meet in dreams**_

_**In death's dream kingdom**_

But he never forgot - not the smell of blood, the wetness and then the sticky coagulation on his fingers - the crumpled pale body - the note addressed to him - his sensei's eyes...

_Obito's eyes. Haku's eyes. Sakumo's eyes. His father's dead unmoving eyes..._

_**Remember us - if at all - not as lost**_

_**Violent souls, but only**_

_**As the hollow men**_

_**The stuffed men.**_

He stands before Obito's grave as often as he can. Daily, some say. But that is exaggeration. There are those week-long, month-long missions he accomplishes - and his talk with Obito is put off, put off, put off - until the day he returns.

Kakashi reaches the grey stone early the next morning, feeling well rested. And he can talk there in silence of the early morning. It's about everything and nothing at the same time. In his own way. In the Kakashi way. In the way he wished he could talk to Obito in the flesh.

He wishes he could have been more honest with Obito when his teammate still walked the green earth. Kakashi regrets the time he wasted arrogantly judging the young boy by his own over-confident, incomplete standards.

And yet, another part of him is secretly glad that Obito isn't there. The boy grieves, he knows, at the sights he sees. At what Kakashi has become.

_A smiling Sensei with an unknown past and an even more foggy future._

People are used to the sight of the crazy Jounin walking about with orange book in hand. His facade, built over the years, is now almost perfect.

Every now and then, he wonders what would happen _if he let it crack_...

_If he let it crack... then..._

_But no..._

He has built the mask with care and he is the smiling, goofy - but powerful - Sensei with a mysterious past...

_They will never see them...._

_**These do not appear:**_

_**There, the eyes are**_

_**Sunlight on a broken column **_

It is years later now... but Kakashi has never forgotten. He will never forget.

When he received his ANBU mask, he said nothing. It was a moment of pride to be sure - after all, none so young as he had been admitted into the faceless ranks of Konoha's assassins. And yet, within the muted celebration, there were the greater, suppressed feelings of loss.

_After all, I am running away_, he thought idly, turning the bone-white mask in his hand. Paler than flesh and smooth and hardened, revealing nothing... It was the perfect mask.

For Kakashi knew the vulnerabilities of the body - not just the softness of skin, the weaker joints to target and the thirty ways to kill a man with a small, sharp blade - but the frailty of the mind. That he also understands.

_And I have found the darkest place for me and no one will find me here._

Or so he thought. Still, even in the silently still ranks of the ANBU, the isolated world of anguish, Kakashi's memories haunted him, ghost-like. Shutting his eyes against the dark in the lonely night hours, he saw their eyes -

Kind eyes, strong eyes, determined eyes -

Dying eyes - lifeless eyes...

He saw them beckoning...

_**There, is a tree swinging**_

_**And voices are**_

_**In the wind's singing**_

_**More distant and more solemn**_

_**Than a fading star.**_

Some days he wonders if he should let Obito have a rest and visit the graves of his father and his mother. He is sure his ancestors are spinning in their graves at the lack of respect he has for his own family. But he knows what is waiting for him.

Empty houses, an overgrown walkway, the unsorted belongings rotting where they stood - left behind - as if suddenly, everyone walked out and never returned.

_Which they did_, he reminded himself, remembering the rather sudden dismissal of the family staff after his father's death. _After it was over... I couldn't lay there in the silences and realize there was nobody but me and a creaking old house - talking to me in groans and shudders... _

The neglected pok-pok of the garden, the droves of crickets and insects whirring, the gentle clinking of the hanging laundry... and the whispering of the trees as they swayed in the wind...

_And the memories rose like fireflies in the night - beautiful and orb-like - each carrying their own glow of emotions: sad, happy, angry, fearful. _He had watched them rise and often would reach out as if to touch one...

- it's his mother rocking him back and forth on the porch singing a lullaby about a tree - and he runs from her and clambers onto the swing his father had just put up for him - and he calls to her - mommy, mommy... come push me - and she laughs and tells him that it is bedtime and he needs to drink his milk - and he pouts and bats his eyes at her and she gives in and his father is watching from the shadows of the library and his father is smiling -

_And then the memories faded - and surviving the day was even worse... and so I left..._

Kakashi admits it to himself one nameless day. He is too afraid to go back and see if the light of the fireflies has faded.

_Will they ever fade?_

_**Let me be no nearer**_

_**In death's dream Kingdom**_

_**Let me also wear**_

_**Such deliberate disuises -**_

_**Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves**_

_**In a field**_

_**Behaving as the wind behaves...**_

There is always the issue of his navy blue mask. It's just another layer of skin, Kakashi thinks. But he is amused by how people stare at him even more, as if hoping that it will disappear and reveal what is beneath it.

And he wonders how they cannot see underneath the underneath - when it is so clearly set before them.

Sometimes, he catches Genma smirking at him. The Copy Nin has a feeling that Genma knows and - even more interestingly - understands. Although the Chuunin Special Examiner is laconic about most things, the brown-haired nin with the eternal senbon finds the Copy Nin's mask a childish game.

_After all_, he muses... _It's all in the profile. It's not what you see head on, really - it's all from the side. One just has to look at him from a different... angle..._

And yet, the children are all agog and plot with the innate aggression of immature Gening and scheming daimyos combined. Kakashi lets them plan._ It will help them in the future_, he smirks as Naruto and Sakura fail yet again to glimpse his face. _It's great training._

He is sure that Iruka will disapprove. Although Iruka hasn't tried to look beneath the beneath, he feels something's not quite right and has been put in his place for his pains. He, like Genma, isn't fooled by the scarecrow flapping aimlessly in the field.

So he scolds and tries to understand and looks askance at the Copy Nin... and keeps an eye on Naruto...

From a distance.

And Kakashi is left alone in the cornfield to ward off the black-coated crows. He may not be successful - but he is happy to be where he must - to be what he must - to look as he must...

When he grins, you never know the verity of his smile...

_**Not that final meeting**_

_**In the twilight kingdom...**_

Kakashi finds himself walking in the dark. He has been here before - but for some reason - this time - it is different. He knows that he should be worried. That somewhere beyond his consciousness, there is a madman wrecking havoc on the Village he had sworn to protect with his life.

And yet...

And yet...

Another part of him - perhaps it is Obito - recognizes that triumphs on all levels are important. And this journey seems to him important and weighty. He walks and searches - for what, he does not know - until the flickering of a campfire calls his attention -

Although complete darkness surrounds him, he walks on firm ground and finding the firelight, realizes that the back of the man is familiar to him. So familiar in his dreams and in his memories - and yet, here - it is foreign and at the same time comforting.

He sits down and finds himself lightheaded with excitement to look on the face of his father and find clear eyes, firm purpose - acceptance and pride.

And his father is looking at him and smiling.

-

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